


What's Black and White and Red All Over

by Miriam_Heddy



Category: The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:45:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miriam_Heddy/pseuds/Miriam_Heddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noel and Julian are back to writing again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Black and White and Red All Over

"The things they print in the papers today. Yellow journalism at its finest." Julian shut and folded the paper and set it on the sofa beside him.

Fielding, who'd politely removed his boots by the door, moved the paper onto the side table and sat in its place, cross-legged like a child. "Thought it was all pixels. They still sell print papers with ink? Or have they gone back to illuminated manuscript now?"

Julian chose to ignore him. "You might find this bit interesting..." He leant forward to get the paper, opened it to the Entertainments section. It was a pause for dramatic effect, but also necessary to control the urge to commit violence. "It says here something called the 'Boosh' are coming back."

Fielding went still. It was like the forest when an apex predator came round--a preternatural silence falling, where before, there'd been the nervous energy of the hunted going about their business, blissfully unaware of their imminent demise.

Julian suspected Fielding would see him as the predator in the scene. It was easy to be cast in the role when Fielding presented himself to the world as a small, harmless, furry thing with a warm smile disguising his sharpish tongue.

"Yes, I, too, was shocked to hear of it. Well, not so much shocked as puzzled. It says here something about someone casting a pod. Not sure what that means, but it sounds important."

"I--"

"The two, male writers slept together in one, big bed, it says. How very homely. Think there's a bit of subtext here, though I may be reading into things."

Fielding's mouth opened and closed without producing any actual words. It was just as well, Julian thought, as he'd need all of them soon enough.

"One might, on first glance, think it merely idle speculation of the sort that happens, periodically, on slow news days. Old bands reuniting, nostalgia abounds, fans get excited. Doesn't usually pan out. Yet in this case, there are direct quotations, suggesting there's a kernel of truth to this rumour."

"I didn't think--"

"Period, end of sentence. Begin new sentence. The little tit was, unfortunately, prone to such expository indiscretions as these, most especially when intoxicated."

"Which I wasn't. And it's true, besides. We are--"

"In the sense that trying to get pregnant is not the same as being so."

Fielding snickered and poked a finger at Julian's belly. "Twins, is it? Not sure I'm ready to be a father."

"Sod off." Julian elbowed Fielding in the side, provoking more giggles. "Twat. This is serious, yeah? We've not yet begun to write."

"The pen is mightier than the sword."

"You think this is a laugh, only it's not."

"Calm, love. We'll get there."

"We'll bloody well have to, yeah? You've set the press upon us. Who'd you think'll be blamed if we aren't brilliant? Not Noel Fielding, surreal comic slash artist slash precious media darling."

"That's not fair!"

"No, it isn't. Strangely enough, the dominant narrative is that this Boosh act was on the very precipice of breaking into America, with plans for eventual global domination, and they would surely have taken advantage of one of the myriad, juicy offers made, were it not for the older bloke's rather selfish decision to father children at what, in retrospect, was an inopportune time, bringing the acts' momentum to a shuddering halt."

"Julian, no one thinks that."

Julian sighed. "No one? Do tell, is there a counter-narrative?"

"You could speak to the media yourself, if you like."

"Ah, yes. And I would say tell them what? That the truth was, at the point at which the Boosh reached its peak, Noel Fielding was so intent on climbing ever higher with the aid of his rockstar mates and a copious amount of blow that he could barely stand, let alone write? Meanwhile, the other one--What's his name again? With the mustache? The one not become an addict?--he watched from a distance, waiting for bold Icarus to fall."

Fielding clapped his hands together loudly and slowly. "Bravo. Extra points for turning this into a bloody Greek drama."

Julian leant back on the sofa and rested his head on the back, looking up at the ceiling. He peripherally saw Fielding shift on the sofa, then felt him curl up against his side. 

Julian frowned and lifted his arm, putting it round Fielding's back, pulling him closer. Julian lifted his head and kissed the top of Fielding's black Barnet. 

"I'm not cross," he said, after a moment's silence.

"Hmm," Fielding said, sounding sceptical.

He tried again. "I'm really not. I'm just... terrified."

"Know that. You wouldn't be you if you weren't."

"You are a manipulative little tit, you do know that."

Fielding nodded. He knew.

Julian sighed.

"Sorry?"

Julian rolled his eyes. "I don't believe you are."

Fielding looked up at him, but did not contradict him.

"Right, then. This is the time when every villain, brimming with more ego than sense, stops his machinations to divulge the next step in his cunning plan."

The villain in question looked up with wide, blue eyes that fairly twinkled with mirth. "Think we should go to bed."

"To bed? To write?" Julian sighed and got himself up off the sofa, heading for the stairs. 

At the top, he opened the bedroom door. "To die. To sleep. To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub! For in that sleep of death what dreams may come."

"Drama Queen." Fielding was behind him and slipped in beside him, so they were both reflected back in the bureau mirror opposite the door. Fielding stared at them, then smiled and patted Julian on the belly, as he had countless times before. "Just a bit older and wider is all."

"Don't touch me."

Fielding grinned. "You'll see, Ju. It'll be genius. Only, I reckon...." Fielding paused and then laughed. "We're gonna need a bigger bed."

Fielding--the man who couldn't help but chum the waters--began cackling, then bent over double at his own joke.

Julian pushed Fielding on into the bedroom, making short work of stripping off Fielding's silly togs and then his own, much more sensible attire, then steered the breathless little tit to the bed, where they always had done their very best work.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are kind. Comments are comely. Feedback is fuel for more writing.


End file.
